


it's not impossible, it's just hard

by lemqnie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji-centric, BokuAka Week, BokuAka Week 2020, Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, High School, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Akaashi Keiji, Post-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25706122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemqnie/pseuds/lemqnie
Summary: The three most defining moments of their relationship as seen from Keiji's eyes.BokuAka Week 2020 Day 4Prompt: Friends to lovers
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	it's not impossible, it's just hard

It wasn’t always like this. Keiji had other interests, too, and maybe he wouldn’t let volleyball govern his life anymore since his middle school career at Mori Middle School was coming to an end. Maybe, when he gets to high school, he’ll try out the Calligraphy club or even the English club! Maybe, just maybe, he would try out a new sport. 

Keiji stared down at his sneakers and scoffed to himself. _Yeah, right._

“Akaashi!” He heard a voice chirp before whoever it belonged to plopped down on the bench next to him, their sweaty knees almost bumping Keiji’s. He has a pretty good guess on who it is, though. One glance at the obnoxiously yellow shoelaces settled his hypothesis. Yoshimura Arata, Mori Middle School’s Middle Blocker, grinned at him. “Have you decided which high school you’re applying for?” 

_His tone is always so jovial_ , Keiji mused to himself. The boy cleared his throat and picked at his fingers. In truth, he hadn’t done his research on potential high schools. He’d go, of course, but knowing Yoshimura’s tenacity and unyielding zest for the sport, the boy must’ve thought that he and Keiji were comparable. That Keiji must’ve applied to a volleyball Powerhouse as he had done a few days prior.

But they weren’t. 

He’s fifteen and he deemed it was high time that he began working towards his future reality. Keiji has long since acknowledged that he would never make it pro. He has aspirations, sure, but at least he knew enough to not overstep his limits. Why not use the time he had to work towards something that was _actually_ realistic? Instead of answering, Keiji just shook his head. Yoshimura was about to go on his fifth rant that week on how _important_ it was for him to start considering and that maybe they’ll _become teammates again_ when the coach rounded them up for warm-ups. 

While Keiji was momentarily appeased by the boy’s sudden quietude, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. He’d exhaust himself for volleyball for hours and hours as long as it was casual. He and his team had their fair share of victories over the past three years. Naturally, they were one of the top three schools in Tokyo for their age league--Keiji has the medals to prove it, but that doesn't mean they'll ever be guaranteed to amount to anything.

He observed their team captain, Kamei Taro, countdown from ten before the group collectively pivoted into a different stretch and wonders what it might be like to go to Nationals. 

_No, impossible. Stop thinking useless things,_ Keiji. _Focus_. 

The practice went on as scheduled and every set from his hands felt more and more robotic as the seconds tick by. The ball would brush against his fingertips then set off in the next millisecond, just as he was trained to do. His teammates seemed happy enough with them, anyway, there was no need for him to go over the top. He was nursing a rather bad back, too. He had spent a good portion of the night reading in the dark. 

As time went on, the strain in his arms began to worsen and there was a growing tightness in his thighs but he wouldn’t bite. He kept going and going and going because, after four-thirty, it was his time to let go and just let muscle memory take over. 

The gym’s door whined open and, out of his periphery, Keiji saw their coach greet a man. He shrugged, it was probably another teacher from a school hoping to get the team for a practice match. 

“Akaashi!” Their Wing Spiker called. And, like a good Setter, Keiji heeded to the demand. Yoshimura received the ball, and Keiji’s eyes tracked it unblinkingly until it formed the perfect arch into his fingers. He trailed his eyes upwards, finding that perfect sweet-spot barely a few centimetres off the net and a good head above it before he pushed. It flew overhead and landed where he wanted it to, right by the front of the spiker’s hand. When they made contact, the ball was sent careening to the edge of the court, nearly missing the line. 

The spiker yelled in ecstasy and Yoshimura leaped onto Keiji’s back. If it weren’t for the arduous training he did on the weekends, he was sure his legs would’ve given out. The group of six in front of them, one of which was their team captain, huffed with no real heat before they rolled the ball towards Keiji for his team to serve. 

Again, the gym’s door opened and closed. Keiji doesn’t think much about it. 

The practice concluded just as his watch struck six. Yoshimura groaned behind him about how much his sides hurt before being hurtled towards the net by their captain since it was his day to pack up. 

Wordlessly, Keiji snatched his water bottle and chugged the liquid down. He felt the tension in his shoulders which accumulated the entire day ease away after the many rounds of setting drills and practice matches. He dropped his head back and stared at the concave ceiling, hot breaths puffing out of him relentlessly. 

Choruses of “see you tomorrows” echoed throughout the space as his teammates left one-by-one into the dark abyss of the evening outside. Soon, it was only him and the few boys that were left to pack the net away in the gym. Their coach was nose deep in his phone. Keiji huffed, standing up before he headed over to bid the man farewell. 

“Coach,” he greeted politely, “thank you for today, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

His coach jerked upright at the sound of his voice and jumped out of his seat. “Ah! Keiji, it’s you. Wait. I’ve got something to give you. Hold on… where is it?” 

The man patted down his grass-green track pants before his hands moved up to his grey-polo. Keiji’s brows furrowed just a fraction, but he kept his disdain inwards. _No one wants to hear it_ , he heard his father’s voice recite in his head. The coach smiled sheepishly, looking seconds away from a nervous breakdown before he finally found whatever he was looking for and triumphantly pulled it out of his wayward jacket’s pocket. It was a small envelope addressed to him. 

Keiji took the envelope reluctantly. He flipped the envelope over and found a small sticker-crest sealing it. He tore it off--his coach grimacing at the action--and plucked the letter out.

He was barely a few lines into the very formal recruitment letter when his coach spoke again.

“It’s from the Head Coach of their volleyball team,” his coach enthused. Keiji didn’t need to look up to know that the man’s eyes were gleaming with a thousand stars. He knew exactly what sort of fame it would bring to the Middle School club if one of their alumni managed to get recruited to a Powerhouse like Fukurodani. “His Training Assistant just came earlier to drop it by. Keiji, they _want_ you.” 

And they honestly did. Keiji scanned the written words mindlessly. More and more compliments were stacked high for him in the letter and Keiji would’ve felt eerily giddy about it if he hadn’t been plagued by the High School Choice dilemma for weeks now. 

“I don’t know…” 

“Oh, don’t do that, Keiji! This is one of the greatest schools in the city! Their Volleyball reputation is just a bonus _and_ they’re willing to sponsor you. Imagine that!”

At Keiji’s silence, the coach resorted to desperate measures and took the boy’s free hand in his. “Keiji, I understand that you might feel…apprehensive. But please, give them a chance. Look, they’ve got their team playing against Nekoma High tomorrow for the Spring High Preliminaries. The man gave me two tickets. Here,” the coach fumbled around some more before he grappled at a nearby table for the tickets, “take them and whoever you want. Just go watch them, hm? And if you decide that it’s not for you, I’ll write to them on your behalf. How’s that?” 

Keiji chewed on his lip as he flipped the tickets over. The letters _FUKURODANI vs NEKOMA_ were printed in hasty penmanship. 

“Okay.” 

The coach beamed and a bellow of a laugh filtered out of his lips, “Okay! Great! Don’t come to practice tomorrow, okay, Keiji? Just… have fun. Please.” 

The boy hummed distractedly before he said his goodbyes and stepped out of the gym into the chilly evening. It was early January and the air was still high-strung from the New Years' novelty. Maybe a change of scene would do Keiji good. 

The next school day came and went as the leave-less trees outside swayed fervently when torrents of wind blew through their neighbourhood. At exactly four o'clock, his English teacher had dismissed the class with two-day homework. Keiji stalked off alone towards the main road where the bus stops were and waited. He decided not to take anyone--not even Yoshimura--since Keiji desperately needed a break from everything.

The stout bus proudly wore the electronic number twelve on its little display, reminding Keiji an awful lot of a scoring board. He waited in line patiently and felt his hair come undone in the strong wind until the elderly woman before him stepped inside the bus. Keiji put forth the handful of the exact change to the little plate by the driver and moved inside. The bus was highly cramped and as Keiji brought his bookbag closer, he realised he hadn’t told his parents about today’s _adventure._ He felt his chest constrict slightly and immediately went to discard the thought. No, he can tell them when he decided where he was going for High School. Plus, it wasn’t like they needed to know his every move. 

He thought, _whatever_. 

Keiji dragged his gaze up and watched the line of carefully placed trees on the sidewalk blur into one as the busy Tokyo streets scroll behind them. The bus wheezed to a stop as they neared a traffic light. His eyes picked up a cram school and he thought briefly whether he had done the set of homework assigned to him on Monday. Maybe he’ll get to it after he works on the essay he has for Japanese tomorrow. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a pair of boys by the neighbouring convenience store. One was slightly shorter with a head of spiky ebony hair and grey eyes while the other, taller boy, had a head of wonderful chestnut hair that had wisps fringing over his eyes. He observed them raptly, saw the black-haired boy drape an arm over the other as they laughed their way down the street. Keiji tightened his hold on the hanging strap. 

_Whatever,_ he reminded himself. 

The gym was smaller than the one they’d use for the National matches. The only reason why Keiji was ever remotely aware was that he had a few years of volleyball knowledge hidden away in him after the stagnant year he had. It wasn’t even the fact that they hadn’t managed to win the Spring Tournament or the Summer Tournament, for that matter. He couldn’t care less. Everyone on his team was so driven, but he felt his drive wilt away as the days pass. 

“Introducing the Fukurodani Academy starters!” The announcer bellowed. From where he sat across the Fukurodani Academy’s seats, he saw the herd of students in identical grey blazers cheer. Some had even brought starting orange cones to amplify their voices. Keiji’s eyes narrowed downwards until they rest upon the massive white banner the school had hung across the railing. 

_Pour all your soul into each ball._

Keiji scoffed. 

From the benches, the players emerged one-by-one. Clad in, what Keiji realised, was their official jerseys: a fitting white shirt with black sleeves accented by golden triangles. Their shorts were black with two golden streaks down the sides. 

“Washio Tatsuki!” the speaker screamed. The Fukurodani Cheering Squad flapped their cones in the air, hooting with all their might. A broad, tan guy ran across the benches until he faced the audience, gave them a quick bow before he continued towards his starting placement at the very end of their side of the court. Once the cheering died down, the speaker raised his voice again and again. The register was called out and each name was met with a rambunctious bout of cries. 

Keiji sighed as the names were unveiled one by one. He felt around his trousers for his cellphone and fished it out only to be met with zero new notifications. He flashed a glance towards the court and saw there were only two players left, the captain and their last wing spiker. The speaker shouted out another name and yet another boy ran up, the captain he was told. Keiji stared down, from his seat, at the remaining spot. 

So far the players he had seen were entirely ordinary. They reminded him a lot of the team he has back home.

And _then…_

_“Bokuto Koutarou! First-year, Wing Spiker!”_

The crowd in front of him exploded in an uproar and Keiji’s frown deepened. What were they so hyped up about some random first year? 

And then Keiji saw him, all wildly unruly zebra hair sticking up at every direction and the brightest grin Keiji had ever seen on a face. The boy’s eyes were fiery as he turned to gawk at both sides of the audience. He even greeted the opposing school’s—Nekoma—audience with an animated wave before the captain beckoned him over to his side. Keiji gulped and inched forward. He had never seen the boy before, not even in the Middle School tournaments. 

The match started ordinarily with the referee’s whistle once Nekoma had been introduced to the audience. Their white-and-red jerseys a deep contrast to Fukurodani’s own. Nekoma served the ball and Keiji--along with the couple of hundred pairs of eyes in the gym-- tracked it down keenly. It was received smoothly by Nekoma’s libero and passed over to their Setter, a lean boy with light brown hair before it reached a spiker who shot it down over the net only to be saved by Fukurodani’s captain. It bounced off the tips of his fingertips and tossed it high towards the Setter who propelled it forwards and within the next second, Bokuto Koutarou had smashed it to the centre of the court. All eyes blinked before the Fukurodani crowd erupted into excited yells and screams of his name. 

Keiji stared, mouth slightly agape, as Bokuto Koutarou’s teammates pat him on the back and the boy beamed, pearly whites flashing prettily in the distance. He jumped up and Keiji thought the boy was suspended midair before he brought his fist inwards, yelling, "Yeah!" 

Their team coach was corraling the boys to return to their posts and, after a while, they did as they were told. Bokuto retreated, bending at the knees and stretching at his lengthy black kneepads. 

"Can you believe he's a first-year?" a student from Nekoma gasped. "That kid's insane."

Their friend hummed in response, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. "I know! Man, our team's gonna have a hard time with that boy on the team... What's his name again?" 

"Haven't got the slightest," the other student laughed, "he's damn good, though."

Keiji gripped his seat as he focused back onto the match that was unfolding in front of him. Twenty minutes had passed. Fukurodani was leading by two points, but those were quickly avenged by Nekoma with a dump and a back-attack. Soon, they were neck-to-neck on the first set. It was Fukurodani's match point at twenty-five, Nekoma only a point away. To no one's surprise, Bokuto had begun to breathe harsher than before, his back raised and heaved most savagely. 

Nekoma's captain delivered a jump-serve and, for one minuscule moment, Keiji's heart stopped. If the serve was a service ace, it would be Nekoma's match point. But then, Bokuto--who was sent to the back after a rotation--leaned back and received it brutally, toppling back. 

"I got it!" their setter yelled, hands mid-air as his eyes scanned the potential spikers. Three boys were ready, one of which was a Middle Blocker, and gearing for step-in to gain momentum when Bokuto propelled himself to his feet and sprinted towards the net, leaping just before he toed over the attack line. 

Keiji's breath was stuck in his throat. Keiji knew the Setter must've already focused-in on one of the other spikers, but a quick second proved him wrong. The ball was raised once more and sent towards the back where Bokuto had jumped. The boy's hand met the ball in a loud smack that echoed throughout the gym. The next second, the ball had hit against Nekoma's court centre and bounced off towards the bleachers. 

"Impossible," Keiji whispered, aghast as the gym erupted into thunderous applause. Even a few students from Nekoma had jumped up to their feet to give the enigmatic first-year a standing ovation. Keiji gaped as the boy ran towards his coach to give the man a chest-bump. The team hooted him as they switched courts and Bokuto was glowing the entire time. 

As a Setter, there was only so much he could do to lead the team to a victory. And, even then, victories were never guaranteed. In his entire volleyball career, Keiji had never seen someone play with as much calamity as Bokuto Koutarou. With every hoot and fist-bump after a successful point, Keiji felt like squinting his eyes because Bokuto was so _bright_. He glimmered with determination and he gave his all in every single play he was included in. The idle, fleeting thought that he was a star filtered through Keiji's mind. It made Keiji’s finger twitch like _he_ wanted to run back to his home gym and do ten sets of setting drills. 

Keiji walked out of the gym noiselessly as the match advanced behind him. The air outside was crisp as they neared November. The sun was hastily retiring under the horizon and he had barely made it to the bus stop just a few hundred metres away before he texted his coach and turned his phone off.

_"I’ll do it."_

_**_

"Bokuto-san!" Akaashi yelped. His voice sounded hoarse even in his ears. His leaden legs were seconds away from crumbling under the immense pressure and there was a throbbing headache growing at the back of his skull. 

It was the Spring Inter-High quarter-final. The Nationals, as Bokuto and the rest of the third-years had so diligently reminded him, was no walk in the park. And Keiji would've mentioned that it was his second year attending the Nationals, but he knew they'd still nag at him anyway.

They had managed just fine so far, but their opponent had proved to be a tad too troublesome than their team had suspected. Mujinazaka High, a renowned Powerhouse from Oita, prided themselves in their physique. Their ace, Kiryuu Wakatsu, had sharp shoulders and beady eyes which shadowed the ball's trajectory before he'd slam it onto Fukurodani's side of the court. He wasn't the only troublemaker on the team. No, their Setter had also shown that he was relentless in his service aces. 

The ball grazed his fingers before he pushed it away towards Bokuto. _Please_ , he whispered to himself, _please score_. 

Bokuto's fiery eyes glinted with determination as he swung his right arm forwards, propelling the ball past the wall of blocks. Keiji observed the ball flying raptly before he saw Mujinazaka's libero hurl himself to the centre of the court to receive it. Bokuto let a minute growl that only Keiji could hear because he was next to him before the ace retreated to his spot. Keiji chewed on the insides of his cheeks. This wasn't good. 

Keiji saw the match flash before his eyes. It could happen in one of two ways: Fukurodani wins or Mujinazaka wins. From those two determinants, he could vaguely map out the endless probabilities of counterattacks and offensive plays he needed to carry out before Bokuto slumps over. 

Keiji watched the opposing Setter raise the ball. 

If Mujinazaka set to Kiryuu again, their team would be at a massive defensive disadvantage since none of them had adapted yet to receive his monstrous spikes. 

_Shit, shit, shit,_ Keiji chanted in his head. 

However, their Setter could just as easily do a dump. _Which is fine,_ Keiji relented _,_ he was at the front and he had accustomed to the diving drills their coach had always set as punishment. 

The ball flew through the air and froze momentarily in front of a Wing Spiker with the number ten emblazoned on his jersey. The boy hit the ball and Keiji's eyes followed it until he couldn't without turning his head. Their libero, thank the Gods, saved it and it went back up to play.

The score gap was surely getting wider. Fukurodani was behind by five points and if it continued, Mujinazaka would've stolen the first set from them. 

_I can't let them do that_ , he hissed to himself. His gaze flitted to where Bokuto stood, golden eyes glinting in anticipation, and a few strands of hair wilting at the sides. It would be Bokuto's last tournament, which meant it must be Washio, Konoha, Sarukui, and Komi's, too. He can't let this be the last game they'll play together. Keiji clenched his eyes shut. 

_Stop thinking._

Keiji eyed the rigid wall in front of Bokuto on the left side of the court. He would normally give it to their ace, but as the ball drew closer he knew what he had to do. Keiji lept up, hands positioned to set, only for his right hand to curve around the ball and dump it over the net. The relief was fleeting because as fast as he had dumped it over, the ball had returned to their court and pushed down too quick for any of them to save it. 

Keiji felt his mouth drop before he sealed it back in seconds. 

_The gap is getting wider. What are you doing? CALM DOWN!_

Beads of sweat rushed down his temple, he felt their fickle touch trail down his neck. The scoreboard beeped anew and now they were eighteen-twelve. The Mujinazaka audience crowed at their victory and Keiji watched bitterly at their Setter's joyful grin and smugness. The air smelt distinctly of _salonpas_ as Keiji drew in a haggard breath.

"I'm sorry," he apologised to his team. None of them ever took it with much heat. Bokuto stared at him owlishly. "I rushed things a little."

Komi gave him an uplifting smile and a thumbs-up. "It's okay! Get them next time."

Keiji nodded and looked away. Anxiety's claws sunk into his heart in a vice grip and he physically felt his mind began to tumble. Back in Mori, he could never play volleyball with much conviction because to him it was just a casual pass time. He was good because he had keenly sought out more and more plays from the matches he'd watch at home, but that was it. It took him a while to adjust to Fukurodani and Bokuto's relentless desire to spike a Setter's ball had eased him into his transition. Somewhere along the way, he had started to befriend the rest of the team and saw himself as one of them. It wasn't like Keiji had entered Fukurodani Academy with much ambition, but he was so glad to be apart of it. 

The match resumed and it was a back-and-forth rally until Bokuto had somehow bitten down on a God-given opportunity and diminished the score gap. They were twenty-eighteen now and the cheers were loud for their ace who was smirking at their opposing team ferociously. 

Keiji gulped. He could do this. Bokuto was at his peak, he just had to push the ace a little further. 

The ball was mid-air and Keiji felt the weight of the ball more than usual before he sent it off to Washio's direction. The spiker slammed the ball down and the cheers erupted again, but something was different. 

The referee's beep stalled Keiji's heart as they announced his setting illegal due to prolonged contact with the ball. "Mujinazaka's point," he whistled as he pointed his arm away from Fukurodani. Keiji watched the scoreboard change again, widening their gap. 

"That was so close!" Bokuto lamented, squeezing his eyes shut. Komi offered him two more thumbs-up and Washio brushed it off, clapping Keiji's back with a _'We'll get them next time!'_

Keiji faltered. Then he clenched his hand into a fist and kept his face straight before he turned to his teammates. "I'm sorry." 

_...Ah, damn it. Clear your mind. Start fresh. Clear your mind--Don't let it show on your face. It's meaningless to go down this rabbit hole now. Stop. Stop. Stop--_

The Setter let his eyes wander around the stadium and saw a flock of orange jerseys he knew to be Karasuno. Hinata was bouncing but deflated a little when they met eyes. Off to the side, Kageyama stood stoically.

_If only I were more like Kageyama or Atsumu--_

_STOP!_

Then, like a knife, Bokuto's voice pierced the tense air. "If Akaashi's having an off day, then why don't we sub him out for a bit?" 

The crack in his heart was tiny, but he felt the wave of disappointment crash into him. The entire team observed silently as Bokuto ambled towards their Setter. At the pace that this was going, Keiji was certain their coach had called for a time-out. 

"I'm sorry," Keiji repeated when Bokuto was close enough, eyes downcast. 

The Ace interrupted him. His broad figure towered over Keiji, but the Setter wasn't the least bit intimidated. He had grown accustomed to the Ace hanging around him and off him long enough that the familiar shadow and warmth served as a comfort more than anything else. 

"Hey you," Bokuto started, "you're probably thinking all this stuff like ' _this is a match we definitely can't afford to lose_ ' or something, right?" 

Keiji snapped his head up to meet Bokuto's wide eyes. The Ace laughed, "Bullseye! Well, then, Akaashi. Here's the thing. Up till now, have you ever thought that it would be okay if we lost a match?"

Bokuto's eyes were firm and they scavenged every drop of honesty present within Keiji's pair of gunmetal blue. It might be his nerves acting up and the endless intrusive thoughts in his head but he thought he had felt Bokuto's fingers brush his own, maybe even linking their callous pinkies together. Up close, Keiji could hear the shallow breaths the Ace were taking.

_He must be getting tired_. 

Keiji straightened his lips into a thin line and walked off the court. At the referee's whistle, he switched places with Anahori, Fukurodani's first-year setter. Their team coach greeted him with a solemn nod as he took his place next to the man on the observing bench, thousands of ideas lining up his head. But nothing stood still. His heart was thumping away, almost breaking free from his ribs, and his blood gushed around as a crimson storm inside of him. 

Keiji planted his face into his knees and screamed. 

It was a while before he could look up again and when he did, their coach had delivered a catalytic speech about their school's banner but most of it flew out of his ear. 

The match resumed and Keiji's eyes effortlessly flit back and forth to follow the ball. He saw Anahori change course in the last second and set the ball to Saukurui in a fast-tempo straight and Bokuto bounced over to give them a fist-bump. He could easily track every one of his teammates, a vision he was so commonly robbed of. The team huddled in the centre, celebrating the point for a few moments before they bounded back to their original posts. 

"Give us another service ace!" Their Ace--no, _captain_ exclaimed. Bokuto's smile was wide and the pride in his eyes was overflowing. A little laugh escaped Keiji. All this time, he decided that he had some sort of control over Bokuto because of his official title as Bokuto's tamer. 

"How laughably presumptuous of myself," he muttered under his breath. 

Bokuto, just like the first time Keiji saw him, was a force to be reckoned with. He was his own complex enigma, a monstrously talented volleyball player who always strived to be the best. What was Keiji so fretful for? There he was, sat outside the game, and Bokuto was giving all his might to defend what was supposed to be theirs. 

The scoreboard beeped their final scores. Twenty-five to twenty-three. They had lost the first set. Keiji peered up to where Bokuto stood, the smile never slipping off his face as he ushered their team to switch sides. He was shining as brightly as ever. 

_Of course._

"You good to go?" their coach asked him as the referee questioned them wordlessly. 

Keiji huffed and a breathless smile swept away the frown on his face. "With a star before my eyes, all there is left for me to do is to play as I have always done and deliver." 

They won the game and the third-years, aside from Bokuto, appeared immensely relieved though they reveled in it in silence. The others had run off towards the bus since they weren't due for another game until tomorrow, but Keiji stayed back and tailed Konoha and Washio to storage to put the balls they had checked out for practice. 

The stadium was much colder underground and the ear-piercing screeches had waned almost completely. Konoha and Washio talked quietly amongst themselves, too immersed to even pester Keiji into joining them. Or perhaps they knew better. 

The volleyball cart's wheels rattled along the floor as his teammates carried further along the corridor and downstairs to storage. Keiji hesitated then saw an empty hallway just a few steps short of the stairs. He severely needed to clear his head. 

Keiji dragged his feet to the very end of the hallway, plopped down on a deserted bench, and shuddered as the cool air from the vent streamed down his shirt. He sank his head to his hands and felt himself begin to shake. He had been _so_ afraid of losing. He knew that none of his teammates would ever fault one single person for a loss, they were better than that, but Keiji knew that one person was enough to catalyze their downfall. That person would've been him. 

Distantly, he felt his skin start to cool under the air vents, leaving icy-cold sweat licking down his spine like a ghoulish reminder of the defeat that would've been there if Bokuto hadn't asked him to be subbed out. And Bokuto would never sub him out--Keiji could only recall a fair few of times in which he had been asked to leave the stage, but never by their captain. Keiji was supposed to be the levelheaded player, he was the anchor to Fukurodani's ship and he had grown rusty.

In the past two years since Keiji had properly met Bokuto when he joined the school's volleyball club--as per his scholarship's prerequisites--Keiji had followed the boy everywhere, starstruck. He would even stay late to toss for the Wing Spiker because Bokuto's desire to win and improve was unforgiving and unabridged. When they started to practise more, carving in time out of their evenings, Bokuto had suggested to walk him home and Keiji profusely declined him because their homes were in the opposite direction. But then his Ace had led him to the car park and shown him his car and, well, Keiji's legs _were_ exhausted. Besides, a car ride to West of Tokyo this time of the night would be quicker than having to wait for his train back. This started to be a routine of theirs. The two of them would close up the gym after a late night of training then Bokuto's driver would drop Keiji home before he and Bokuto--who'd _always_ roll down his window and wave frantically at Keiji as the car zoomed away--would return to Bokuto's residence.

Sometimes, during their rare off-days in the weekend, Bokuto would bound over to Keiji's place and beg the boy's mother to let him hang out with him. Keiji's mother would say yes because that was the polite thing to do but sternly reminded her son to be back home before dinner. Then Bokuto would drag him around Tokyo, trying different cafes and sporting outlets and, sometimes, museums because he liked it when Keiji narrated each display's history. And it would be just the two of them because Bokuto rarely asked the other third-years or his classmates to hang out and Keiji founded that he didn't mind missing a few hours of studying if Bokuto asked him to. 

And Keiji never _ever_ imagined that a star like Bokuto would ever be humble enough to befriend Keiji and choose him to be his Setter, even complimenting him a handful of times-- _"Your tosses are the best!"_

Oh, what does Bokuto even think of him now?

His slimy fingers slid against one another as he curled them into his hair, tugging at it for the headache to subside. His eyes were burning as the failed plays and blocks from the game replayed over and over again in his mind. His ears could faintly pick up the soft pattering of footfalls, probably a few other students from their opposing school coming down to store their balls as well. 

"...you're already interrupting him..."

Keiji tuned out of their conversation, wishing to be in the silence a bit longer but his brain short-circuited when the bench he was currently sat on creaked with the new-added weight put on it. Keiji eyed his company's legs and found those thighs he had grown so familiar after having to bump his knees on them during those late car rides. 

"Akaashi," Bokuto's deep voice commanded. Keiji forced his eyes shut, preparing himself for the berating he would be getting. "The way you picked yourself back up today was so good! Even though you were flailing a bit at the start!" 

Keiji snapped his eyes wide open and lifted his head from his hands, but daren't look up to Bokuto. Maybe his captain was just softening him up before he fully went ballistic on him. 

"I thought about... a lot of things during the game," Keiji confessed lowly. 

Bokuto's response was immediate. "Well! As long as you know what you did wrong then that's all good, isn't it? You'll be able to deal with it next time." 

His captain's usual light and airy tone struck him and Keiji felt the sting in his eyes climb high past their threshold as hot tears trailed down his cheeks. "Yes!" 

A heavy hand patted his thigh as Bokuto's free hand offered him a tissue. Keiji mopped up the sickly wet emotion from his face, the frustration in him still prevalent but withering as his captain squeezed his leg firmly. 

Keiji lifted his gaze and Bokuto's eyes were there. The captain gave him a soft smile, reserved only for their car rides--or when Bokuto had done exceptionally well on a quiz which he and Keiji had relentlessly prepared for-- and Keiji felt his heart stammer underneath his breastbone. The blood that was drained from his face moments prior had rushed back in full force, nearly knocking him out as his cheeks flamed. 

"But Bokuto-san! You said you were easily influenced by the Nekoma-Karasuno match--"

"Ah, yes. I was super hyped!" Bokuto crowed, eyes wrinkling.

Keiji continued, "You are positively influenced by watching good games, but if you had watched a bad game, what do you think would've happened? I... I think you should do something about being so easily influenced!" Keiji gathered up the final bits of resolve he has remaining and furrowed his brows even though his face still burned. "Try to keep your act before each game consistent!"

"Um," Bokuto muttered as his eyes darted to his left. "Yes, okay." 

Then Bokuto had jumped to his feet and marveled about the last back-attack the two of them served as a winning point and then pivoted in place to offer Keiji a hand up. The Setter took it, felt the warmth of his captain's arm seep through his skin and kept his face straight as Bokuto's hand never left his. He let himself be tugged along as Bokuto preached about saving every and all balls. 

Keiji huffed minutely. "You say 'all' but--"

"Akaashi! Here we go again!" Bokuto babbled. "I've given this a lot of thought and I can finally rebut your rebuttals today!" The captain crossed the distance between them and grabbed Keiji's free hand which was locked in a vice-grip with the hem of his jersey. Bokuto dragged him closer and beamed. "It's not impossible, it's just hard!" 

Keiji felt a fresh bout of tears push against his eyelids but he kept them at bay. His chest was awfully tight and the heat in his cheeks was more prominent than ever. He sputtered out a breathless laugh and Bokuto's grinned impossibly widened even more. 

"You're right," Keiji sniffed before he laughed. 

Bokuto squeezed his hands before he let one go. "Let's go get 'em!" 

Keiji stared at Bokuto's back as the captain dragged him towards the rest of the team, who undoubtedly had watched their conversation play out. Keiji couldn't even muster the strength to be furious at them. Because when he met Konoha's mischief-riddled eyes and faced Komi's knowing smirk while Bokuto's steady fingers were still intertwined with his the burden he had carried for the past hour disappeared into thin air. 

**

Keiji blew on his cold hands, cherishing the short-lived warmth as he waited by the major railway station. He had travelled West to continue his education at Kyoto University while Bokuto had stayed in Tokyo and entered Chuo University, the current up-and-coming champions of the Intercollegiate Volleyball League. He had gone to visit Bokuto's campus a few times but fell short recently due to cramming for University entrance exams. When Keiji had been appointed captain by Bokuto a few weeks before the third-years graduated, he nearly cried and Bokuto laughed at him but then kept rubbing at Keiji's shoulders when they had a break. 

The training was strict, still, and Keiji had led Fukurodani to the Nationals as a captain until the finals of Spring Interhigh where they lost to Karasuno who had Ennoshita as their captain. Bokuto had groveled in the stands and ran down to greet him when the match ended--ready to console the retiring team captain,--but Keiji hadn't felt the least bit upset. He knew he had done all he could and being considered as one of the top two schools in Japan was dignified enough. He told Bokuto this much and the man could only embrace him in a tight hug, entirely oblivious to Keiji's rabid heart. 

After Bokuto had graduated, their friendship remained strong and Keiji still looked at him the same way he had done all those years ago when he was still in Middle School only now he had a festering tightness in his chest whenever Bokuto would smile at him. Keiji still watched his matches, awe-struck, and congratulated him reservedly even if his insides were the exact opposite. He knew he was treading dangerous waters by letting his feelings grow. Bokuto merely saw him as a great Setter and a really good friend at best. He had spent nights thinking it through and he always arrived at the same conclusion: Bokuto returning his feelings were highly impossible. 

But it was difficult to extinguish his heart. They texted every day, even if it was just Bokuto telling him what new move he learned from one of his new teammates--Sawamura Daichi, no less. Bokuto would call every other night if both of them were free and they'd spend hours past midnight just talking and hearing each other's voice. Keiji would call out his name like a prayer in the dark and hear the rustling of Bokuto's bedsheets from the phone before the man would hum tiredly in response. Sometimes Bokuto would ask Keiji about volleyball and Keiji would respond, sometimes he skips it entirely. 

Keiji still played, but not competitively. He stuck to his resolution that his volleyball career would end as he received his diploma and became a devout academic during his first year at University, which included not seeing Bokuto even when he went home. It was all good because Bokuto was busy due to his intense training regimen following his second year as an Intercollegiate champion. But it was fine, Keiji insisted. They were still good friends and Keiji would do anything to keep Bokuto in his life, even if their daily texts were reduced to weekly ones. Even then he'd stay by Bokuto's side. 

It was late November when Bokuto told him to not come home after the school year ends--" _I've never seen your university_ ," his former team captain whined into the receiver, " _come on, Akaashi. Show me around Kyoto for a week and then we can go back home together!"_ And Keiji complied because it was Bokuto. He would always fold when it came to it. 

His last term as a University student had ended a few days ago and Bokuto pleaded for him to stay until the three-day Intercollegiate Championships were over. Keiji had made a fuss about his absence at Bokuto's prime matches, but the man told him to stay put and focus on his exams until Bokuto could go fetch him in Kyoto. 

The cold was biting as another train slid into the platform. Keiji eyed the crowd of people stepping off onto the station, the myriad of colours from each of their coats, then averted his gaze when his scan proved fruitless. It was currently six in the evening, and Keiji feared the early December snow would give him frostbites if Bokuto doesn't arrive soon. 

A chilly breeze blew past him and Keiji tugged his coat even tighter to himself before he fished out his phone to send a mildly aggravated text to his friend. 

"Hey! Hey, Akaashi! Over here!" 

Keiji turned his head, the text message long-forgotten. Bokuto walked up to him in quick strides. The man was blanketed in a dark grey parka, his hood left unused and a navy cap tamed his usually unruly tufts of hair down, making them a soft fringe above his eyes. He carried a loose black duffle bag with him with the Chuo University emblem proudly printed on its sides. Bokuto wore cerulean denim trousers which hugged his toned thighs perfectly enough Keiji had to look away. 

The man bounded over until he was right in front of Keiji and grinned at him. "Wow! Look at you, you're wearing your glasses now, Akaashi!" 

"Yes, reading literature and writing does that to a person," Keiji countered with no real heat. Bokuto's warmth was infectious up close and Keiji worried he might blurt out something stupid if they didn't start walking. "Are you hungry?"

Bokuto's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Akaashi, are you a mind reader?"

Keiji let out a small chuckle then looked down at his hands. Hesitantly, he offered his open-palm to Bokuto whose eyebrows darted up acutely before they settled down as he took Keiji's hand in his. They stood in silence until Bokuto's stomach grumbled vehemently and the Wing Spiker's ears flushed red. Keiji threw his head back into a full laugh, vision darkening momentarily as he slipped into a familiar bliss he'd enter whenever he was with Bokuto off-court. 

"Let's go," said Keiji. 

He took Bokuto to a Yakiniku place and paid at the cashier despite the older man's peevish protests. Keiji rolled his eyes when Bokuto hung off him, whining his ear off about how that wasn't fair. 

They walked mindlessly, still hand-in-hand, around Kyoto. There wasn't much to show to begin with since Keiji lived around a quiet neighbourhood which turned off their lights before the clock struck nine. They made their way around alleyways, and faintly Keiji remembered he should be well on their way back to his flat now so they could get up bright and early for touristy things and maybe even visit the Kyoto University campus. 

Keiji stared down at their hands Bokuto was swinging back and forth. 

"Hey, hey, Akaashi," Bokuto crooned, as he usually did. And Keiji listened like he always did. "Did I tell you yet..."

Keiji hummed, fingers warm. "What, Bokuto-san?"

"My team won the championships," Bokuto whispered, "I'm the number one Ace in the country!" 

Keiji, alert, finally looked at Bokuto in the face--foolishly only remembering that here was an intercollegiate athlete who ran from his last match to come all the way here to visit him. And Keiji's been dragging him around town for _hours_. How tired must Bokuto be? He's foolish, _stupid Keiji!_

"Bokuto-san," Keiji began. 

"I know I told you to stay here, but I wish you were there, you know... It's okay, though, I got something to give you."

Bokuto slipped his hand away from Keiji's and shucked off his gym bag, which Keiji now saw was full with his leisure clothes and not training equipment as it usually was, and rifled through it until he pulled out a ribbon. When the whole thing came out, Keiji saw the glinting gold medal attached to the tri-colour ribbon matching perfectly with Bokuto's eyes. 

Bokuto dumped the bag unceremoniously on the pavement. Keiji nimbly surveyed their surroundings and found that they were the only ones awake in this stretch of neighbourhood. Keiji's breath was stuck in his throat when Bokuto stepped closer, medal in hand. 

"I never got to see you with a gold medal at Nationals," Bokuto murmured, fiddling with the medal. The air between them was thin and fragile and Keiji couldn't bring himself to move a muscle in his body. "And when I got this I was really happy, you know? I wanted to be number one and I got it! But, I was kinda sad... just a bit though!"

Keiji choked before he could respond and when he did his voice was a thin whisper. "Why were you sad?"

The silence hung heavy between the two of them and Keiji sought for the man's wayward gaze but failed when Bokuto fixated his eyes on a nearby lamp post.

"Well...I have so many friends at school now. And they were there to cheer me on and I was happy! But I kept thinking how much happier I would've been if you had been there, you know?"

"Bokuto-san..."

"--and when I won I felt like the whole world was on my side and when everyone congratulated me I just really wanted to show this to you--"

"Bokuto- _kun_ ," Keiji pressed on, chest aching. 

Bokuto's fiddling with the medal increased in pace but the twinge in his lips showed that he must be holding back. Keiji wanted to slap him.

"So here," Bokuto muttered, finally turning to face his former teammate. He raised the ribbon and lowered it around Keiji's warm neck. A puff of hot air escaped Keiji's lips. "Akaashi, I think--"

"Koutarou," Keiji sighed before he crashed their lips together.

Bokuto's eyes opened wide before they dropped shut. The Ace's hands dropped to his side before they found purchase on Keiji's lower back, pulling him even closer to Bokuto. They kissed until Keiji had to gulp for air, but Bokuto chased him and reattached their lips heatedly. Keiji's fingers trailed up to the other man's neck, resting there and tugging at the shorter strands of hair. Bokuto's mouth opened, a small moan escaped him as he turned his head to the side to deepen the kiss. Keiji hummed with the newly added forced and stepped back to ease the growing strain on his lower back from leaning backward only to slip on ice and sent the two of them crashing. 

Keiji let out a yelp as they went down. Bokuto attempted to stick an arm out to soften the landing but ended up falling on top of Keiji who, after he had a second to process what the hell just happened, burst out into loud howls of laughter. 

Bokuto jumped up onto his knees, eyes scanning every bit of Keiji's body he could find. "Hey, are you okay?" Bokuto queried, hands hovering above Keji who wouldn't stop rolling around still seized in that fretful fit of giggling. 

"Bokuto-san," Keiji wheezed in a breath, "I am so stupid." 

Bokuto's brows furrowed in silence as he eyed the medal around Keiji's kneck, glimmering under the street lamp's reach. "What do you mean?"

Keiji sniffed, bringing a hand to wipe at his eyes before he righted himself up and ogled at the medal on his chest. He smiled as he met Bokuto's worried stare. "Bokuto-san, do you like me?" 

"I..." Bokuto trailed off, cheeks flushing. His eyes remained steady but after two years of watching the man, Keiji knew all of his ticks. Including the way he scratched at his sideburns when he was flustered. "Yes. Do you...do you like me too, Akaashi?" 

Keiji felt around for the medal, rubbing his hands around its circumference then stood up. He offered a hand to the fallen ace who accepted it quietly, gawking at him in anticipation and Keiji simply zipped the man's bag up and handed it to him before he slipped his fingers into Bokuto's. 

"Yes," Keiji admitted softly. He rubbed at Bokuto's fingers with his thumb. "Very much so." 

Bokuto beamed before he inched closer, looking up at Keiji with through his lashes. "Does that mean I get to kiss you again?" 

Keiji's cheeks were red, but the fingers in his hand were warmer. He pecked Bokuto's mouth once. "Let's continue this at home," Keiji murmured against his lips. Bokuto jerked away before he tugged Keiji forwards and soon they were running into the wintry night. Keiji stared up at the stars in the sky and thought how dim they were in comparison to the one right in front of him. 

"Bokuto-san, wait," he giggled. 

Bokuto only gripped his hand harder in response and Keiji finally let his mind rest. He didn't need to worry anymore. Bokuto was right this entire time (he vaguely heard Bokuto's rebuttal in his head-- _"Of course I'm right!"_ ) It was never impossible with Bokuto, it was just hard. 


End file.
